


Machinery Breaks Down

by ambrolen



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Gen, becoming ult dirk, minor blood, post act 7 pre epilogue, ultimate self
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22372120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambrolen/pseuds/ambrolen
Summary: Removing humanity to avoid ultimation.
Kudos: 12





	Machinery Breaks Down

Dirk moves like he has always moved. His body works mechanically. His body works without conscious thought. His body knows what it must do. His mind is elsewhere, always, even if it’s not literal anymore. He does his best to block out the strings tugging him to other timelines, other manifestations of the worst parts of himself. The trick is, there are no best parts, no parts worth salvaging.

Pain reaches through the haze and he sees the blood rising on his thumb. A careless mistake. Another scar. He goes and rinses the wound, ignoring the taunting text that no longer appears. The words etch themselves in his head, anyway. He wraps a bandage on his thumb and returns to his work, machine once again. A machine does not need comfort or friendship or company. A machine does not lash out, does not hurt, does not ache. A machine does not hunger or thirst or tire. A machine does not need love. A machine can not be evil.

A human boy is not a machine and his muscles will strain from overuse and his brain will cloud with exhaustion and the next time he slips it is a small piece of finger that he loses. He watches, curious as to whether his godhood will make him whole again. But it was not enough lost, just a small piece, insignificant and unnoticeable unless you knew where to look. He repeats the washing and bandaging and frowns as he decides he’s done for the day. Day, of course, being defined by the period between the last time he slept and now. His windows block out the sun. What is the use of being a god if you cannot make your own system of time? His thoughts flash red but he is all too practiced at dismissing them.

He lays on the stiff bed and places his shades gingerly on the windowsill next to him. He closes his eyes and imagines he is simply Void.


End file.
